Quira of Pern
by Soft Brown Curls
Summary: AU Quira is the daughter of Lord Jaxom's steward, Brand, and is forced into drudgery from a very young age. Will she be Searched out for Impression? Of course, there wouldn't be a story otherwise...
1. Chapter 1 Search

A/N: Hi, I'm a big fan of the Dragonriders of Pern series and I like to dink around with stories, so here are some of my twists and embellishments on the series. No real idea for overlapping with the series, just a stands-on-its-own story. Comments/reviews appreciated. Thanks, broncoriderco, for your helpful review!

A Hatching was imminent.

The sky over Pern's holds was thick with dragons on Search for new candidates to Impress the hatchlings. Ruatha Hold was favored with the presence of F'nor on brown Canth, the second in command to Benden Weyr.

A blast of cold air washed over Quira as the four dragons burst out of between. She was standing atop a turret, breaking from her duties to watch the clouds.

Quira loved clouds. Big fluffy clouds, small wispy clouds, mountains of clouds, black threatening clouds that meant wonderfully cooling rain. She often imagined she was a dragon and could soar at will through the mounds of puffy white.

The blast of cold air jarred Quira back from her reverie with an involuntary start. A huge brown dragon was heading right for her! Her fear evaporated, replaced with admiration for his size, vibrant brown color and grace. She could swear his large multi-faceted eye watched her as he passed quite close over her head to land in the Hold courtyard.

Quira scrambled down from the turret and ran back to the kitchen. If the head cook missed her, her father would hear… and that would not be pleasant. She snuck in through the trap door and pretended to be absorbed in dishwashing.

F'nor leapt lightly from Canth's back, looking around at the familiar buildings of Ruatha Hold. How many Turns had it been since he and F'lar Searched Lessa out here? His flashback was interrupted by the arrival of Jaxom, the Lord Holder, noticeably unaccompanied by the Lady Sharra, lately delivered of a healthy baby boy, her first and Jaxom's heir apparent.

"F'nor! Welcome, brown rider!" Jaxom gripped F'nor's forearm in the traditional grasp of dragonriders.

"Good morning, J'xom," F'nor grinned, using the honorific contraction as a jest. Jaxom's smile widened and he led F'nor towards the Great Hall. F'nor politely inquired after Lady Sharra's health and the health of the babe as they walked.

"Oh, healthy as a runnerbeast and as roars like a dragon," Jaxom said proudly. There was an answering, prideful call from Ruth's weyr at the other end of the square. F'nor let out a laugh; "Seems like Ruth's just as proud."

"You should see him brood over the babe," Jaxom said with a grin, "just like a protective wherry hen." They laughed and entered the Hall.

"Lord Lytol," F'nor called to the nearby graying gentleman who was giving directions to Anira, the headwoman, "I thought you were in the Southern Holds."

The man's face remained impassive. "I see you are just as loud as ever, young F'nor," replied Lytol by way of greeting. F'nor grinned and Jaxom roared with laughter. "Lytol's back to supervise for a bit before my son was born. Oh, what fun we're going to have at this Gather!" Jaxom said gaily.

"A Gather?" F'nor inquired, surprised. He raised his eyebrows at Jaxom's shocked look.

"You mean you haven't heard about the Gather going on two days from now?" Jaxom was incredulous now.

Fnor shrugged, "This is the first I've heard."

"Hmm… I instructed word to be sent by fire-lizard. Ruth's been out of sorts a bit lately; no, no," he started, seeing F'nor's concern, "just an overly strong bout of dragon-cold. He's been sleeping a lot lately."

"Well, we never got it, but I'll be sure to have Canth relay the message to Ramoth and Mnementh straightaway," came F'nor's reply. His eyes temporarily unfocused as he mentally relayed the request to Canth.

"Thanks," Jaxom said and called for some klah and fresh redfruits from the Southern Continent. Lytol had brought more than enough for the Gather celebration and more would be sure to come.

Quira heard the call and knew that this was her chance. Either she would go with the brown rider, or be almost beaten to death by her father for revealing herself. She knew Lord Jaxom didn't even know his steward, Brand had a daughter...

Jaxom turned back to F'nor. "You're on Search?" he asked, still grinning.

F'nor smiled to himself; would nothing wipe that grin from Jaxom's face? "Not officially, though Ramoth's latest clutch will hatch within the next day or two. Canth felt that we should stop here, even though several others indicated nobody of interest."

"If anyone has a nose for potential candidates, it's Canth." Jaxom glanced out the large, open window at the end of the hall for a glimpse of Canth's huge bulk sunning himself on a ledge.

F'nor followed his gaze, fondly gazing at his lifepartner. Canth was sound asleep and unaware of the scrutiny.

"You're more than welcome to anyone you find here, F'nor," Jaxom said, indicating the hold with a sweep of his hand. "No need to tell Fort Weyr, eh?" he said, winking.

As the tray of fruit and klah was assembled, a drudge picked it up to take it to the table where the dragonrider, and Lord were chatting. Quira elbowed the drudge and, before the cook could say anything, she was striding with long legs out into the Great Hall... for the first time in her life. Quira never stood tall or used her long legs... her father forbade her. Too late, she noticed him standing right outside the door to the kitchen, fresh from inspecting the stables, as she passed through on her way to the table. He froze for a second, not believing his eyes, then instantly let fly at her with the riding crop he had carried with him. _Here it comes,_ Quira thought as the riding crop whistled through the air.

F'nor inclined his head and looked around. A drudge walked in with the tray of fruit and pitcher of klah. Hmm... a drudge that walks? No scurrying or hunching? As soon as he noticed, a man flew at the girl, whipping her across the shoulders with a riding crop and nearly toppling her to the ground.

Jaxom noticed the commotion and rose to his feet in an instant. The girl had had the sense of mind to thrust the tray to a nearby table before she was knocked off balance by a second blow from her much larger assailant. She was so thin, it was a miracle she didn't succumb after the first two hits. F'nor restrained the man as he raised his arm for a fifth blow to the shocked and bleeding girl at his feet. Anira helped the girl off the floor and whisked her away, out of reach of the crazed man still straining to reach her.

"BRAND!" Jaxom roared.

The man paled and F'nor relaxed his hold, allowing the man's arms to be lowered limply to his sides. Brand was breathing heavily and his eyes kept darting from his Lord to the terrified drudge pressed against a pillar. Blood was beginning to drip down her arm and onto the floor. Anira hastily called for clean bandages and some numbweed.

Jaxom stood for a moment, schooling his facial expression and slowing his breathing. The large vein popping out of his forehead slowly began to recede back under his skin. What had gotten into the man? Brand, his steward, was usually such a docile and obliging fellow, doing everything and anything in his power to make his Lord and Lady comfortable and see that the Hold ran smoothly. Lytol had been more accustomed to visiting Master Robinton in the Southern Cove Hold with his academia, so Brand had risen from a lower steward position to be Jaxom's second in command - when Lytol was out, of course.

"What has gotten into you, man?" Jaxom fumed, face demanding explaination for the uncalled for abuse.

Brand looked at his Lord, glanced at the druge who was now somewhat more possessed of herself, and opened his mouth...


	2. Chapter 2 And Rescue

Disclaimer: I own none of these characters. Quira and Anira are the only ones I fabricated myself. Everyone else is straight from the books of Anne McCaffery.

Chapter 2 – And Rescue

Brand opened his mouth to explain… and shut it again, shuffling his feet and glaring defiantly at the flagstones beneath his feet.

"Brand! Answer me!" Jaxom said, taking a threatening step towards his steward … ex-steward, now.

Brand flinched. "She is my daughter," he said, glancing defiantly at Jaxom.

Anira gasped. Who could do this to their own flesh and blood? She paused in cleaning the blood of the drudge's back, looking at her matted hair, bedraggled dress, dirty hands. She noticed her dark eyes glistening under a snarl of hair, unshed tears threatening to spill. "Shh… he won't harm you anymore," she whispered, stroking the matted hair.

Quira could barely keep her eyes open… she'd never been beaten like that before. The dragonrider was walking towards her, but his image kept swimming in tears before her eyes. She wiped them away.

Canth had roused as soon as F'nor had moved to intervene. Now he was sure. _She is the one_.

_Are you sure_, F'nor asked, frowning. He felt for a pulse: weak but steady. The drudge was staring at Brand, tensing as the man took a step in her direction.

"No, Brand. You will not touch her again," Jaxom said, stepping in front of Quira.

"Quira is nothing but trouble!" Brand exploded, "My beloved wife died birthing her, one of her brothers died saving her from a house fire and the other brother…" here Brand paused, clenching his hands. He blamed the tragic and untimely deaths of his wife and two other children on Quira for being the only member of his family to survive. He felt she had to be punished to try to remove this curse from his family.

Jaxom was stunned. He knew Brand had had a hard life before he came to Ruatha, but this was no reason to doom a daughter to a lifetime of drudgery.

"Brand, I understand that your life has been hard, but this is no reason to…" Jaxom started.

"She has no right to live when the others died!" Brand exploded, making a rush at Quira and raising the riding crop again.

F'nor tripped the man neatly and sent him crashing into a table. The tray of fruit and pitcher of klah went flying and Brand fell to the floor with a thud and a sigh.

Jaxom called for someone to retrieve Master Bertine, the Hold's Healer, and sent a nearby drudge for restraints. Indeed, he had no lack of helpers; the entire kitchen had stopped its doings to gape at the ongoing scene. Anira frowned and the drudges scattered.

"Jaxom, this girl,…" F'nor began.

"Quira," Anira said pointedly, "She's been nameless long enough." Jaxom was surprised by the sudden vehemence which surrounded the normally calm and dignified headwoman.

F'nor frowned again. _You're sure_, he asked Canth again. He could see Canth roll to his side and curl up away from the Hold, pointedly not answering. F'nor sighed. "Jaxom, Canth says Quira is the one we're looking for."

Jaxom stared in disbelief; the resemblance to Lessa's finding was uncanny. Quira seemed oblivious to what was going on around her. He was mystified. What in Shells did the brown dragon see in this half-starved, filthy girl? "You're welcome to take her, F'nor," he said with a shrug, "I'd invite you to stay, but you'll probably want to get her back to the Weyr and cleaned up a bit. She'll need some time to settle before the Hatching," Jaxom said.

F'nor nodded and knelt by the table, putting himself at eye-level with the drudge… Quira, he reminded himself, glancing at Anira.

Quira was more comfortable now that her shoulder and upper arm had been covered with numbweed and bandages. The sharp, searing pains had faded to the slightest dull throbbing and was fading faster. She saw the dragonrider crouch down and look her in the eyes.

"Quira, are you well enough to come with us?" F'nor asked. _Those dark eyes… she'll be a heart-breaker for sure_, he thought to himself. His Brekke had pretty dark eyes, too, and soft dark hair that he loved to wind his hands in. He jerked himself back to the present.

Quira hesitated, then straightend. Her legs shook with shock and some nervousness, but her voice was steady and the words were clear, "Yes, I feel well enough."

Anira mixed up a concontion of wine and various herbs and held it up to Quira's lips. "Here Quira," she said, "This is wine and some herbs to give you strength." She frowned as she glanced down at Brand: pale, prone and staring. "F'nor is going to take to Benden Weyr. You will never have to see your… Brand again," she whispered, moving to block Brand's vengeful gaze.

Quira mechanically took the cup and sipped quietly. She raised her dark eyes to Anira. "You don't know him then. He'll not stop til this curse as he calls it is lifted. He's sworn never to marry until it's gone… until I'm gone. It's a miracle he's left me alone this long. I suppose I should be grateful he couldn't justify killing me in cold blood," she said sadly, her voice a sweet, low murmur.

"He'll not reach you where we're going," F'nor said emphatically. He didn't know why, but he was drawn to this girl. Oh no, not like he was drawn to Brekke. More like, he wanted to protect her, to give her a chance at life without fear. He hated to see young life crushed out before it had a chance to grow, to develop.

Quira had drained the cup. She felt life flowing into her limbs, her vision grew clear and her head stopped spinning. She looked down on the prone body of her father, flinching as he struggled to get up. She wished she could feel sorry for him.

"Thank you for your hospitality, Jaxom," F'nor said, gesturing towards a waiting Canth in the square, "but I'm afraid we'd better go."

Jaxom shrugged, looking down at the furious man on the floor. He was going to have his hands full dealing with his ex-steward anyway. He absently asked Ruth to see if he could contact Lytol. He never forgot his manners though and, while a drudge was none-too-gently tying up Brand, he walked F'nor to the square.

Quira was amazed at the sight of the enormous brown dragon sitting in the square. As they approached, he lifted his magnificent, wedge-shaped head and fixed whirling, multi-faceted eyes on them. F'nor waved a jaunty good bye and, in two leaps, was astride Canth and reaching down for Quira. She grabbed the long fighting strap dangling down towards her and hesitated. She heard dragon skin was soft, but she had no shoes, and those scales looked rough to her.

_I will not harm you. See for yourself_, a voice in her head said. The dragon leaned gently against her, filling her nostrils with pleasantly musky dragon odor and she felt the surprisingly soft hide rub against her face.

_Was that you_, she thought, looking up at the dragon's huge eye, now on her level.

_Yes_, came the simple reply.

She smiled in wonder and rubbed her cheeks against his leg. She felt, rather than heard, the dragon's quiet rumble of pleasure.

"Quira? We need to go," F'nor prompted.

She looked up and reached for the strap again. Suddenly, she turned.

"F'nor sighed. _We're going to be here all day_, he thought.

"My Lord, thank you," Quira said, kneeling on the ground in a deep bow, her lips quivering with sudden emotion.

Jaxom inclined his head with a distracted smile and gestured for her to go. Quira reached for the strap again and scrambled awkwardly up the dragon's leg.

_It's no easy feat to climb a dragon with one good hand_, F'nor thought, pleased with her determination and strength, for all she was so skinny, at least she was able to take care of herself. F'nor helped her seat herself just in front of him and wrapped the fighting straps around her, securing her to Canth's harness. No _use having her fall off_, he thought. He gave a quick salute to Jaxom and gave Canth the direction to go to home.

With a mighty leap and the all-important downstroke, Canth was airborn and headed home.

"_Between_ is very cold, but it only lasts as long is takes to cough three times," F'nor said, automatically giving the rehersed speech prepared for other Impression candidates.

He felt Quira's back tense against his chest and patted her shoulder.

"You won't be able to feel anything, but remember that Canth is beneath us and he knows the way home."

"His name is Canth?" Quira asked, "Thank you, Canth."

Canth rumbled with gentle pleasure.

"Here we go" F'nor said, giving the command to go between out loud for a warning to Quira. _Canth, you really like her, don't you_, F'nor asked.

_She will Impress_, came the reply, and then they were _between_.


	3. Chapter 3 Way to go, F'nor

A/N: By the way, this is building on Anne McCaffery's series. I don't own these characters in any way; though, admittedly, some of them are of my own fashioning.

Quira sucked in air as they burst out of _between_ and let out a loud, long scream. F'nor ducked his head in surprise. _Shells_, he thought, _I didn't expect her to react that way_. She was buffeted by the obligatory blast of frigid air and abruptly silenced her scream. She was shivering in the warm afternoon air, wincing as the bandages pulled. Canth glided towards Benden Weyr, bugling triumphantly to the watch dragon.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry!" Quira said embarrassed. She kicked herself for not holding that scream in, but she really had no idea how cold and…abandoned? Bare? Empty? None of those words did justice to describing _between_.

"It's ok, you're not the first, nor the last. We'll find you a foster home for the next few days until Impression. You'll most likely stay there unless you Impress. If that happens, you'll move with your dragon into those weyrs nearest the ground," here F'nor indicated the series of about sixty small caves hollowed out near the ground of the Weyr.

Quira grinned. She'd started to warm up and, even if she didn't Impress, she was free: free to stand up straight, to speak her mind, free of beatings! Her spirits soared at the thought of a bath and warm bed. Canth rumbled a dragon laugh as he glided down to the floor of the Weyr; backwinging to land solidly on the ground. Quira felt her heart settle reluctantly back into her chest. Her head was pounding uncomfortably but she chalked it up to excitement. That one short flight was more than enough to hook her on the adrenaline rush of flying. _Between_ would take some work though…

F'nor slipped off Canth and reached up a hand to help Quira. She swung her leg over Canth's neck ridge, slid to his forearm and then leapt to the ground. Suddenly light-headed, she grabbed wildly for F'nor as her legs wobbled once and collapsed. Maybe she needed to get used to excitement; this was way more than she'd ever had in her life, other than the time another drudge had let an entire wherry carcass catch fire on a spit. That was exciting, rushing around with buckets of water and seeing the flames lick high up in the sky, dancing with a life of their own. Quira had oddly identified with the free-spirited flames that others were trying to drown into submission. She wouldn't quickly forget the pitiless cook, ordering her everywhere or the glowers from her father when rare occasion permitted a chance encounter.

F'nor easily caught her mid-fall and swung her up into his arms. The child weighed nothing! _Such a brute of a man_, F'nor seethed and strode purposefully towards the kitchens. Manora would be better suited and equipped to foster the girl and get her some warm food. F'nor glanced down at the pale face of the girl, her eyes dark pools against the stark white of her thin face. Yes, food was definitely in order.

"Manora," F'nor called as he strode into the kitchen, setting Quira down gently in a chair.

Quira weakly put her head down on her forearms, willing her head to stop spinning. She heard light footsteps and glanced up. A tall woman, whom F'nor resembled slightly now that they were standing together, approached the table and cast a worried look down at her. Quira's head pounded heavily and she put it back on her arms.

"F'nor, who is this?" Manora asked, putting a slender hand on Quira's arm and checking her forehead. The coolness of her hands was especially nice to Quira.

"This is Quira; Canth Searched her at Ruatha Hold," F'nor replied, stepping out of the way so his blood-mother could more efficiently check on the girl. His Weyrmate, Brekke, hurried into the kitchens just then, glancing around til her gaze fell on F'nor.

"Canth called me," she said, absently kissing his cheek, "he said to bring my medicines." Glancing at Manora's crouched figure, she registered an additional, wasted figure. Her Healer training kicked in as she knelt with Manora and began examining Quira.

"Can you hear me?" Brekke asked gently, probing the girl's stomach, and looking into her eyes, "what is your name?"

"Quira," the thin voice whispered.

"Quira, I'm Brekke. I need you to tell me what hurts; how do you feel?"

"Tired, I can't see well…"

"You can't see well?"

"Everything is moving… and my head hurts."

Brekke glanced at Manora, "She's burning up with fever…" Brekke noticed a white fabric poking out from under Quira's borrowed tunic. Lady Sharra had given it to her to cover her rags until proper clothes were made for her and to help anchor the bandages in place. As Brekke gently tugged the white fabric, Quira cried out in pain as the bandage pulled painfully against the cuts from the whip.

Brekke all but ripped off the tunic, revealing the mass of bandages covering Quira's back.

"F'nor!" Brekke cried out, "You didn't go between with her like this! Did you?"

F'nor burned under her blazing scrutiny; Brekke was fiercely protective of injured patients. Truthfully, he'd forgotten all about her injuries. He hadn't actually seen the cuts, but he had seen blood on the back of her ragged tunic… not much defense against the crazed Brand. He remembered now that the Master Healer had been summoned back at Ruatha, but he'd been more inclined to get the girl out of there than bother about a little blood. It seems he'd been mistaken.

Brekke groaned at his forgetfulness, not usually characteristic of F'nor, the responsible Wing- Second, and began laying out the herbs and bandages she would need.

The bandages were still fresh, so Brekke didn't attempt to change them, though she did lift them briefly to assess the damage. At the sight of three long, deep slashes covering her shoulder and upper arm as well as numerous other cuts and scratches, she frowned deeper. For good measure, she slathered more numbweed on the whole expanse.

Manora had gone to the pot on the hearth and ladled out some leftover klah from breakfast this morning. She placed this in front of Quira and bid her raise her head and try to drink.

Quira glazed blearily at the mug in front of her… such a pretty deep red color. Must be the clay it was made from. As she weakly took it in her hands, the stimulating warmth cleared her head and she drank gratefully. There was an odd aftertaste, but Quira was too tired and achy to notice.

"We'll keep her in the Infirmary until the Hatching," Brekke was saying. Manora nodded and F'nor was looking worriedly at her.

"What is she misses the Hatching?" he asked, looking up again.

Quira noticed an odd floating sensation. She reached out to push her right arm back to the table, but her left arm wouldn't respond. She was blissfully unaware as F'nor lifted her into his arms again and followed Brekke to the Infirmary.

He placed the unconscious Quira onto a spare bed in a sheltered corner. He kicked himself over and over for his lack of judgment in flying between with an injured girl. He should've seen her wounds firsthand before they left. It was still morning when the left Ruatha; they could easily have flown straight and been back within a few hours. Canth was healthy and strong and the flight would have been good exercise for him.

"I'll stay with her for a bit; we should probably have someone stay with her til this fever breaks. I had Manora lace that klah with the experiemental fever reducer Master Oldive found in the Records," Brekke said, tucking the sleeping fur close around Quira.

F'nor was stunned. "You used an _experimental_ drug on a Candidate?" he asked, "Isn't that just a bit risky?"

Brekke sighed. "Better to try it before she Impresses a dragon," she said, wringing out a cool damp cloth to place on Quira's head.

"Better to use it on a less important person," F'nor grumbled. He honestly wasn't too concerned; Brekke had an undeniable knack for Healing, so if she was willing to try an experimental drug period, it shouldn't be dangerous. He just hoped Quira would be well enough to participate in the Hatching; that day was far too soon for her to take ill in his opinion. Shells, he should be fair – she didn't ask for that beating. He left Brekke to her tending, knowing he probably wouldn't notice her come to bed later that night.


	4. Chapter 4 A Glorious Bond

QoP 4 – A Glorious Bond

Quira was feverish for a while. She vaguely remembered Brekke's kind voice and feeling cool hands on her forehead. Kick the covers off, have them put back on, tucked in tighter than a straight-jacket…. That was the drill. She finally woke up feeling tired, but better. She felt a soft, plushy pillow under her cheek and the warmest, softest sleeping fur she'd ever felt. I've died and gone to heaven, Quira thought peacefully, snuggling deeper into the furs. Suddenly, her eyes shot open as she remembered where she was… and why.

"Oh no!" Quira yelled, struggling out of bed. Her thin white night shirt fluttered around her knees as she struggled to make her way out towards the mouth of the cave she was in. Stumbling, she knocked over a pile of boxes with a loud crash. _I'll never make it to the Hatching Grounds now,_ she thought, sinking into a forlorn heap on the ground. _They've probably already Hatched and been Impressed._ She didn't cry, just sat and thought about what she could do now.

_Brekke comes_, said a voice in her head. _Do not despair, little one_. Quira looked up blankly as a young woman rushed in, alerted by Canth about Quira's awakening.

"Oh, Quira! Did you hurt yourself?" the woman asked, kneeling beside her. Quira gave herself over to despair and buried her face in the woman's shirt.

"I missed the Hatching! Now I have to figure out what to do with the rest of my life!" Tears coursed down Quira's cheeks. Her thin body shook violently with sobs as she let out her years of pent up grief and rage. She was finally able to find release.

Brekke stroked her hair and spoke soothingly to her for a few minutes. Finally, she made Quira sit up and tilted her chin so they were eye-to-eye.

"You did not miss the Hatching," Brekke said with a smile.

Quira looked blankly at her.

"Really, you didn't miss it. The eggs are still hardening on the sands. They're very near to Hatching, though," Brekke said thoughtfully, glancing at the mouth of the cavern. She could faintly make out the opening to the Hatching Grounds across the bowl of the Weyr.

Quira sagged, so drained from her emotional release that relief could find almost no expression, other than a small sigh. Brekke patted her arm and gently helped Quira stand, steering her back towards her bed. Quira sank down gratefully into the still-warm furs and drifted off to sleep. Brekke woke her almost immediately to swallow some medicine and wash it down with warm klah. It was heaven to Quira.

She was vibrating… her very bones were shaking. Someone was shaking her awake … roughly.

"Quira!" Brekke moaned, shaking her shoulders, "you have to get up. You must get up!"

Quira sat up groggily, but was able to focus her vision for the first time in a few days. Malnutrition and sickness were losing their effects.

"Quick, the eggs are Hatching!" Brekke said, tossing the white candidate robes at Quira and twitching the curtain into place so Quira could change.

Brekke swiftly pulled the nightclothes off Quira and bundled her up into her robes with effortless ease. Quira realized that the vibrating wasn't originating from her, there was a deep, pervading hum filling the Weyr. Excitement and adrenaline began to kick in and her mind cleared. She was able to follow Brekke out of the Infirmary and saw the hundreds of dragons and people filling the Hatching Grounds.

"Come on!" Brekke said, pulling Quira along after her. They half ran, half stumbled across the bowl towards the opening to the Grounds. Quira could pick out other white-robed candidates among the crowd, their white robes stark against the colors.

"You must not be afraid," Brekke was saying, pulling Quira along, "The hatchling will be hungry and awkward, so make sure you stay out of the way of her claws." Brekke turned her head, scanning the flying dragons above her; _Looking for F'nor, no doubt_, Quira thought. She was beginning to tire from their short sprint towards the opening. Gratefully, she slowed down, breathing heavily as they found themselves in the press of people entering the grounds on foot. "Make way, make way for a Candidate!" Brekke yelled loudly, trying to make a hole for them to get through.

The humming rose just the slightest bit in intensity. The crowd sensed the change and parted quickly, allowing Brekke and Quira to pass through.

Suddenly, they were on the hot sands of the Ground, but Quira paid no attention. Her gaze was drawn to Ramoth, golden and majestic, half crouched over her eggs.

A clear, commanding voice raised above the hum of the dragons called out: "Ramoth! Let the candidates approach, dear one!"

Brekke pushed Quira, towards Ramoth she thought, and then disappeared into the crowd, waving encouragingly as she moved towards the stands. Quira noticed knots of candidates gathered around a large group of eggs

Quira glanced at the protective mother dragon as she headed for the knots of boys and girls. She locked eyes with Ramoth and the dragon furled and unfurled her wings in agitation. Quira could make out a large golden egg between her front legs. Suddenly, Ramoth rose and leapt into a corner, exposing her prize to the candidates and settling down beneath the ledge Lessa sat on. Quira saw four girls shyly approaching the large golden egg, but she didn't dare move from her circle around the 38 mottled, rocking eggs.

Suddenly, a large egg near her cracked open from top to bottom, gave two hard rocks and a hatchling tumbled into the sands. It was only about as tall as her waist, when the little bronze righted itself, glistening from amniotic fluid and crying piteously in anxiety. Her heart went out to the little one as it stumbled from candidate to candidate trying to find the one it wanted. Suddenly it stopped in front of a short, stubby boy with curly blond hair. Butting its head impatiently against the boy's knees, its cries changed to a hungry note. The boy's face lit up as he knelt next to the little bronze who wrapped his neck around the boy's, crooning gently and rubbing its head against the boy's cheek.

A swarm of hatchlings followed suit: blues, greens, browns and bronzes all waddled around trying to find partners. The dragons' hum increased to an almost unbearably intensity, focused on the rocking queen egg.

Quira was watching a little green dragon cock its head and waddle questioningly in her direction, chirping and crooning. Her heart leapt as the little one kept coming. As she reached out to embrace the little dragon, a blur of gold flashed by her. A large gold hatchling hissed and snapped at the little green, driving her off squeaking in fear. The gold dragon stood proudly and turned to face Quira, her multi-faceted eyes whirling from an angry red to the deepest, most brilliant blue.

_You are mine_, said a gentle voice in her head, _and I am yours_. The gold dragon, whose head was almost shoulder height, gently rubbed her head against Quira's arm, begging for attention. _My name is Zenith_.

A cheer rose up from the stands as the spectators realized the queen had Impressed. And what an Impression!

Awed, Quira reached out a tentative hand and scratched along the dragonet's neck ridges, up the neck and finally reached the eye ridges. Zenith's eyelids closed and her head swayed gently as she rumbled contentedly, a sound like a cat's purr, Quira noted. Nothing else mattered to her now but Zenith's health and happiness. She was barely aware of the candidates and their dragonets moving off the Grounds and out into the Weyr; soft dragon hides glistening like jewels in the late afternoon sun.

_We must go now_, Zenith said resignedly, wrapping her head around and underneath Quira's arm, her brilliant blue eyes sparkling mischievously in the shadows of her robe. _But this will be a good day. I am hungry… can we eat now?_

Quira's heart was full as she and Zenith headed out. "Of course, dear one… we'll get you something to eat as soon as possible," she said, giving the eye ridge another brief scratch. Zenith purred again as she nuzzled up next to Quira, leaning her large golden head delicately on Quira's shoulder and wuffing gently into her ear. Her breath was fresh and spicy, laden with the odor unique to dragons. Quira reveled in it as they joined the line of dragons and riders heading outside. A young bronze and his rider, the same boy Quira had seen, paused respectfully for Zenith and Quira to enter the line. Zenith acknowledge this show of respect with a graceful dip of her head and then continued on. Quira shot a quick smile at the boy, who blushed and returned it.

This is the best day, Zenith said, crooning with love and adoration as she nuzzled her head under Quira's arm, which rested companionably around the graceful golden neck.

The days ahead were bright with hope, but disappointment lurked also, unseen by those overwhelmed by excitement and love unfeigned.


	5. Chapter 5 Life as We Know It

Disclaimer: I own nothing of Anne McCafferey's .

Life as We Know It

Quira felt exhausted. The last 24 hours was a blur – Impression was still foremost in her mind though. She would never forget looking into Zenith's perfect eyes or the feel of her surprisingly soft, textured skin next to hers.

_Suddenly having another person always in your mind, always sharing your thoughts, is definitely overwhelming though_, Quira thought.

_I bother you?_ Zenith questioned blinking open one eye sleepily.

"I just need time to get used to it but it's a huge comfort to know you're only a thought away, Dearheart."

The Weyrling master was calling for everyone to form up. Quira dragged herself out of bed, glancing up as Zenith stretched on her stone bunk above. Glittering and golden, she was much larger already than her brothers and sisters, almost the size of a runnerbeast where her siblings were about the size of large dogs.

Quira and Zenith were about to start a routine that would rarely vary for the next year: wake, eat, bathe/oil Zenith, classes for Quira while Zenith slept off her meal, eat, more class (and sleep) and then a couple blissful hours in the evening for just the two of them before Zenith was oiled for the umpteenth time just before bed.

As time went on, Quira and Zenith made new friends and these were sometimes invited to spend time with them in the evenings. They especially became close to the young stubby boy, I'len, and his bronze, Tagath. It still surprised Quira that he had Impressed a bronze. He was just so young – couldn't have been older than ten – and regrettably short. He had since proved himself more than equal to the task of caring for his massive life partner and more able than not a few of his fellow weyrlings.

A year later found Zenith a glorious visage as she took off from her junior queen's weyr and soared gracefully down to the feeding grounds. Quira never could quite stomach the sight of her life partner hunting . Nothing in the world would've made her approach a dead wherry, let alone attempt to butcher one, except for Zenith's pitiful creels of hunger. _Thank heaven that's over_, she thought.

_Don't look_, Zenith said as she folded her wings and pounced neatly on a large male wherry. Quira grimaced as she heard the faint death shriek, even from the back of the weyr. She could feel the satisfaction Zenith felt as she fed though, and that made her smile. Quira stretched and rolled out of her sleeping furs, ready to start another day under the tutelage of the head weyrwoman. Lessa. That name made her smile falter. She tried to be nice to her, she really did, but it seemed like Lessa just wrote her off. Quira was used to being ignored, but she felt like she had to constantly prove that she was worthy to be a queen rider, worthy of Zenith!

_Nothing could make you unworthy_, Zenith said, _We will be together always_.

_Always the optimist_, Quira thought fondly. She sighed in resignation, _Might as well get ready_. Lifting the flap that covered the food delivery tunnel, she called down for some klah and fruit. She quickly combed her brown hair, stopping to marvel at how long it had grown in the year since she'd first arrived. She's been forced to keep it short as a drudge, which was unusual. The other drudges hadn't bothered about their hair, but she'd always supposed it had been her father's way of further tormenting her. Her brothers had always said that her mother viewed hair as a great beauty, an adornment to care for and be proud of. Quira missed them so. Especially Rangel, her oldest brother. He'd been so protective of her. When he died in the fire trying to get everyone out, she'd been devastated. She finished tucking her pants into her soft wherhide boots and heard the tray rattle up the tunnel.

Zenith peered into the little back room where Quira was eating. _You must hurry_, she thought with a twinge of anxiety, _we must not be late. Ramoth is displeased that we are not there yet_.

Quira swallowed, took one last swig of klah and sent the tray rattling back to its origins. She ran out to the ledge and continued up the side of the canyon to Lessa and Ramoth's weyr just a few weyrs further up. A few weyrs meant a few wingbeats for Zenith, but several minutes climb at a jog for Quira. Zenith had already landed and was gazing down the walkway for Quira by the time she got to the top. She was only slightly out of breath, too – a testament to how often they cut it close

"Quira?" Lessa called from the storeroom. Zenith nudged her to the storeroom where her lesson was taking place today and then settled in next to Ramoth.

"I'm here, weyrwoman," Quira responded meekly as she entered the room. There were other junior weyrwomen, but none that hadn't had this lesson yet, so it was just Lessa and Quira today.

"You cut it close again." Lessa's face was unreadable and Quira fought the urge to look at her feet.

"Yes ma'am," she said instead and met her gaze, waiting for Lessa's response.

She sighed and indicated the stool next to her. Quira quickly took her seat and glanced at the hides in front of them.

_Well, that wasn't so bad_, Quira thought happily as she raced Zenith back to their weyr. Zenith always won, but Quira never minded. The lesson had gone really well, with Lessa being uncharacteristically patient as she taught Quira about keeping the records of the weyr. Food, clothing, special requests all came through the weyrwoman. Quira didn't realize what a big responsibility being the weyrwoman was. As the most junior of the junior weyrwomen, though, she didn't really worry about it.

_I'll never need to worry about that, but I'm glad I know it now. It seems like it would have its own rhythm if you did it long enough and that would help._ Quira loved music – if she hadn't Impressed, she probably would've gone to apprentice with the harper guild. She could find the rhythm of life in anything and she loved the routines and experience of high-energy Benden Weyr. So many people going about their lives and so many things to see – and just wait til she could see it from dragonback! Lessa had told her that she and Zenith could start flying lessons once she had made her own flying straps. The harness for Zenith was already under construction, having been commissioned by Lessa a couple months previously in expectation. Quira was to report the leatherworking shop after the next shipment of goods arrived in a couple days. She wondered if that would be a good idea. It was likely to be a busy rush if she went the day of, but she didn't want to delay her and Zenith's flight lessons to avoid a crowd…

"I'm going to run down to the leatherworker's shop," Quira called as Zenith settled into her hollow.

Ok… Zenith said sleepily. Quira paused to look lovingly on her best friend and then dashed down to the floor of the weyr. The leatherworkers were on the other side of the weyr, so she broke into a steady jog to cover the distance quickly.

An enormous shadow blotted out the sun and she nearly stumbled as a massive bronze landed near her.

"Quira!" It was I'len and now Tagath was whuffing gently in her face. She patted his nose and he leapt into the air again, heading for the feeding grounds.

"Hi I'len, how's Tagath doing?" Quira said with a smile for her friend. Only the queens had to wait a full year (and sometimes longer) to start flight training. I'len and Tagath had been flying together for a few weeks now and were proving themselves quite the pair.

"He's amazing, as usual. Of course, I do nothing, just cling to his neck like a tick," I'len responded, dusting his riding pants with his wherhide gloves. "We went between for the first time today!"

That experience Quira did NOT envy I'len.

"Congratulations!" she said with a grin and a high-five. "Zenith and I start flying in a couple weeks – as soon as I make my flying straps."

"Awesome! Are you heading to the leatherworkers now? Can I come with you? Tagath is hungry enough to eat at least ten wherries," I'len said jokingly.

"Sure," Quira said. He'd had to remake his flying straps twice over before F'lar, the weyrleader, would approve them for use. Maybe he'd have some useful suggestions.

As they entered the leatherworker's shop, an apprentice pointed out a corner where three other weyrlings were already practicing making flying straps on spare leather bits.

Quira made a face. "Good thing I came early," she said, picking up a strip of tough rawhide and sitting next to a tall, lanky boy. "Hi Y'lan, how is Neketh doing?" The shy blue rider glanced up at her through his shaggy brown hair and gave a polite response. She sighed inside. It seems like green and blue riders just couldn't shake whatever barrier they'd placed between brown, bronze and gold riders – no friendly overtures or outright disdain, just very polite reponse.

I'len gave her some pointers as she started to soften the tough leather into more malleable and manageable form and then started talking about his first flying lesson: what Tagath did, mostly, and what the weyrling master faulted him for in form.

"Who needs form anyway?" he was saying, "you're on a dragon! Nobody is going to be looking at you, I guarantee it!" Quira grinned as she chewed her leather strip to soften it.

After working on softening leather for two hours, Zenith started to stir. Quira seized the opportunity and reached out with her mind,_ Any itchy spots? Need some oil?_

She could feel Zenith's drowsiness as she responded, _No, I am fine. Enjoy talking_.

_Are you sure? Not one itchy spot?_

Zenith was amused, _I suppose there is a spot on my shoulder_, she conceded.

_You poor dear! I'll be right there_, Quira said in a grateful rush and rose to leave.

"Giving up so soon?" I'len asked with a grin.

"Zenith is itchy and needs to be oiled," Quira said, edging towards the entrance.

"Riiiight," I'len said with a wink and a grin, "Itchy."

Quira rolled her eyes and waved goodbye. A little while later, she strode into her weyr with a sigh. It had been a long morning and the day wasn't even over yet.

Zenith looked pleased with herself as Quira grabbed the oil and a rag. She loved being oiled and Quira loved getting into the rhythm of oiling. The weyrling master often commented on how radiant Zenith's skin looked and how few flaky patches he'd seen.

It took her several hours to oil Zenith – what with the frequent breaks and naps they took it was close to the evening meal when she finished. Zenith spread her wings to catch the rest of the dying sunset before she soared over to the feeding grounds. Quira gave her strict admonitions to keep herself neat and headed down to the eating room for her dinner.

I'len sat with some of his bronze rider buddies, but gave a friendly wave when she came through the door. It was Brekke and F'nor, though, that motioned her to join their table.

"How is Zenith doing?" F'nor asked, digging into his roasted wherry.

"She's doing well, thank you," replied Quira cordially. A servingman put a plate of food in front of her and filled her glass with fresh water from the cave springs. Quira was determined to enjoy her roasted wherry without thoughts of Zenith's preferred meals.

"We saw her take off a few minutes ago – she's positively glowing," Brekke said with a wistful smile. Quira had since heard her story and had learned to be the epitome of tact around Brekke.

"Thank you," Quira said, and turned the talk to other things. At the end of the evening, she stole back into her weyr and snuggled up between Zenith's front legs. The sleepy dragon cracked open a large, whirling blue eye and rumbled.

I love you, Quira said, snuggling against Zenith's leg.

I love you, too, Zenith said. She lifted her head and delicately removed a sleeping fur from Quira's nearby bed. Quira grinned as she took the proffered fur and wrapped it around herself. Thoughts of flying, dipping and soaring whirled in her mind as she drifted off to sleep.

Nobody saw the next day coming…


End file.
